Out of the way

A man died today whom I never met. But he was known to people I know, was a friend, collaborator, co-worker. He is a person whose presence I have felt, whose physical absence was tangible.

It is difficult to lose a friend, someone who has shared a struggle, a moment of triumph, or even a defeat or a setback. It is far more difficult when they are gone forever than when they just went away somewhere, or you haven't spoken in a while.

Being sad is natural, and reasonable. Wallowing in misery for a while is (at least for me) tempting. But it is later, when I think of what I have lost after some time of not having it, that I am really sad. And happy, often. The bittersweet nature of life is that in sadness I realise how lucky I have been to have had such a friend. How sorry I am for the things I left undone, unsaid, for what we never tried, and how glad I am for the things we did. In happiness, I occasionally think with tinges of regret how much I want to share an achievement with someone who is not there to enjoy it with me.

All of this ends up giving me comfort. The beauty of humanity is that people are so fragile, are subject to the inexorable law that our time is limited, and that we never know how much is left. We hurt each other, we forget each other, we don't make enough time for each other. We can be selfish, or busy, or just elsewhere. And at the same time we are capable of loving and caring about people, of thinking of them in moments we can never collect and share.

So I assume that people think, from time to time, of things they don't say. I know that I will never tell everything I want to everyone I want (this blog is in some ways an attempt to do a little more than I used to, but will never achieve the goal entirely). I am sorry to have lost friends, to have neglected friends, to have lost contact with people.

But I am glad to have the friends I have, to have had the friends I have had. People are great. They make life worthwhile.